


Rock Bottom

by doozies



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alcohol, College, F/F, F/M, Lemon, Love, M/M, Sex, Smut, drunk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:47:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5742664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doozies/pseuds/doozies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>COLLEGE AU. Rey has hit rock bottom. After her one and only long term boyfriend turns out gay, and then receiving a notice from the university that she might be kicked out for poor academia, Rey's pretty sure life can't get any worse. But of course, vodka and bad judgement causes Kylo Solo to come into her life, and she's not sure she wants to shake him off. SMUT/LEMON</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I don't own Star Wars!

“Like literally, I am so fucking hammered.”

Threepio sways awkwardly and squints at me, his red solo cup half empty. I sigh and continue to drink from the bottle of vodka I haphazardly found while digging through the kitchen. I’m perched on the marble counter, my head resting against the cupboards with my heels pounding the dishwasher rhythmically. The cool surface feels nice against my clammy thighs. I don’t bother responding to him. He is such a light weight.

“Why do you keep moving?” he grumbles in his thick accent. He rocks back and forth, and I try to motion for him to stop, but my body feels like Jell-o. I continue to lounge lazily as I watch him teeter, my head feeling thicker and fuzzier. Suddenly, he falls onto the floor, his light beer now drenched on his clothes.

“Whoops,” I gasp to myself, giggling as I take another swing. It burns in my throat, and the stench is repugnant, but the way it clouds my mind is blissful.

Typically, this isn’t my scene. In my twenty years of living, I never once went out to a party and got smashed. Generally, my infrequent splurges with alcohol are done alone either in my foster dad's basement, where dim lights and dust mask my intoxication, or, since I moved out, in my room where no one can hear my shouts of anger as I curse about my pitiful life.

Now here I am, at a fraternity party where loose girls get looser, and horny boys get lucky. I want to mock them, but I can’t—I’m too busy wallowing in my own self-pity and horniness. 

“I fucked up,” I slur to Threepio. He is still on the floor. His eyes are wide and his bronze hands are outstretched, opening and closing vigorously as if he is trying to grasp onto something. I continue speaking, blinking heavily as the words spill out. My tongue feels heavy. “I messed up big time.”

“And how is that?” a voice poses suddenly. Alert, I look around quickly and my vision blurs. When I don’t see anyone, I blink and repeat the motion, but it only makes me dizzier. Grabbing my head, I close my eyes, leaning forward to alleviate the pressure. Someone takes the vodka from me hand, and I feel robbed.

“Hey!” I protest, my right hand extended. My head is still in my left and my eyes are closed. “That’s mine.” My chin and small breasts are almost making contact with my knee. For a drunken moment, I am astonished by my own flexibility.

“Sharing is caring,” the guy mutters. I open my eyes slowly and look ahead. At first, I see a crotch covered in black jeans. Lifting my head, I gaze upon a navy blue sweater that hides a beautiful chest and a gloriously defined collar bone; I could practically see his muscles straining against the material. My gaze moves up to a long neck with a protruding Adam’s apple, with veins that pop delicately along the sides. Finally, I see a set of glistening red lips, an angular nose, jaws fashioned from stone, and beautiful brown eyes. I attempt to whistle at the gorgeous man. It comes out as a hiss, and a little spit flies out of my mouth and droplet falls onto his sweater. I glare at it for a second.

I blink a few times when I look at that face; not just because it was slightly blurry and almost too perfect to be real, but because it seems familiar. Not of one I spoke to frequently—or even at all—but one that I see around a lot. The name is at the tip of my tongue, and I inhale obsessively as it comes to me and then suddenly eludes my mind. I curse.

“Who—who’re you?” I manage to get out between my swollen lips and incoherent thoughts. I’m still hunched over so I crane my head to see him because he’s so tall. My neck feels uncomfortable.

“Who are you?” he retaliates, taking another swing from the bottle. His expression turns sour before it goes back to its original stoic expression. I gaze at the bob of his Adam’s apple, and it makes me swallow. I can almost feel the burn of the liquor running down his throat and I’m thirsty for the feeling. Shaking my head, I focus my attention back to his face.

Was it possible for a man to have such a handsome face? And so distinguishable! I know that face—I know him from—

“Ben Solo!” I recall. I straighten up in glee at my discovery. But the motion is too quick and uncoordinated. I hit the back of my head hard on the cupboard and groan. Tentatively, I reach to caress the offended area, but my arm immediately flop. Everything feels heavy, and my ears buzz with static.

Suddenly, Ben slams the vodka down. I am happy that the bottle is released from his possession, and even more delighted when the clear liquid sloshing against my bare skin from his aggression. The wound forgotten, I reach for my emotional medicine just as he places his hands on my thigh, using them to lean into me. I flinch, my nails scraping the glass at it retracts. I ball my hands to my heart and look up at the tall man.

I’m wearing shorts, and I quite like them. They are a make-shift type, a pair I created from an old jean. True, they were too short for customary occasions, but a college party did not have a dress code, and I would like to think my long sleeve t-shirt compensated for my lack of propriety.

So, I am bare to him. His hands scorch my legs. They wrap themselves above my knees. His palm is rough and big, and I like the callous feeling against my skin. His fingers are so long that they overlap. Ben’s grasp is almost too tight, but I like it. He is between my legs, and my foot is brushing against his quads. His grip tightens when I move them against the material of his jeans. I can feel the onslaught of a bruise, and I’m tempted to ask him to tighten his hold just to make sure that the fire licking my skin is real.

The AC vent is above me, but I’m pretty sure that’s not what causes my nipples to peak, especially since my body feels like a hundred degrees.

“You okay?” he asks, concerned. His face is too close to mind and when I look up, I can see every detail of his face. His eyes are beautifully framed against long and thick lashes, and they’re bright like chestnuts. His cheekbones are high and angular and I want to see him smile. His lips are parted and I can hear every inhale and exhale, and I match begin to match it. His fresh breath fans over my face, and I open my mouth to protest the proximity in some way, even though I didn’t mind it at all. Instead, I croak and I taste the mint and vodka on the tip of my tongue. My mouth waters and I fight the urge to pull him closer.

“Brov, I’m good,” I push him away halfheartedly.  My shoves on his shoulders are futile, but even my drunk addled mind knows that I’m not trying. He chuckles, and my hand involuntarily reaches up to trace the curve of his lips. His smile is so bright and innocent—like Finn’s. My stomach turns and my fingers linger on his chin, feeling the stubble that is just barely growing.

“You sure?” He rubs my legs, and his hands tease dangerous close to my crotch. I close my eyes tightly and then open them up again, staring down at my lap, wondering how badly I want this. I look back up at him and heat fills my body when his hand moves closer and I know for sure now. I’m so wet and horny and that’s the only thought that sticks in my mind.

I want this beautiful boy to make me forget about gay boyfriends and failing classes.

“Where do you think you’re going buddy ol’ Ben?” I giggle, reaching for him as he takes a step back from me. He’s no longer touching me, and my legs feel cold. He stumbles forward, bracing his arms on either side of me. His arm knocks against the bottle, and the drink crashes to the ground and barely misses the unconscious Threepio. I giggle again and wrap myself around him. I try to scoot towards the edge of the counter so everything is flushed against him, but my breasts are too small.

I curse genetics.  

“The name is Kylo,” he grunts. He’s staring at me intently, and my ears are burning. I stare at his lips. They’re so red and voluptuous, but small in comparison to Finn’s.  

“Even with this buzz, I know your name is Ben Solo.” I let my hands ghost down his arm, my fingers slipping into the sleeves of his top to stroke his wrist. He looks at the gesture, confused and annoyed.

“My middle name is Kylo and that’s what I prefer to go by.” Then, he tries to move away from me again, but I have him in a steadfast grip. “How drunk are you?” His nose wrinkles when my breath fans his face. 

I’m confused by his behavior so I go back to the aforementioned comment.

“What do you mean your name is Kylo?” I lean closer, my nose barely touching his. If I just push myself a little closer, out mouths would touch. My lips electrify at the thought.

It would be my first kiss with a heterosexual.

“I mean,” he begins, craning his face away from mine, “that I go by Kylo, not Ben.”

“But I like Ben,” I pout. I am trying to be flirtatious, but he isn't reactive. I want his hand back on my thigh. Sighing, I decide to deadpan.

Boys like girls who take action, right?

 “Look here Kylo,” my voice drops an octave and I stare at him intently, grasping his face in both my hands. I almost hiss at the feeling of jaws; they are so sharp and defined I could cut myself on them. This fact only turns me on more, and I arch my body closer towards him. “I kind of want to forget about things tonight, so how about we hop on up to a bedroom and just do the nasty?"

I should have given him a chance to respond—to refuse my offer, that way I didn’t do anything stupid. But my current state as Drunk Rey didn’t give two shits about what he wanted. Drunk Rey just wanted to be fucked for once in her life by someone who actually wanted to fuck her.

So I don’t give him a chance and I crash my mouth onto his, my hands already undoing his belt and reaching for the treasure and he’s not stopping me because I can feel his hands move up under my shirt in search for my nonexistent breasts. When he finally finds them, he tries to squeeze them. I moan at his attempt and indulge myself in kissing him.

Ben Solo kisses so much better than Finn.


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is smut in the beginning, and I know I said this story would have smut/lemon, but please bare in mind that I'm not just going to throw it in for fun, y'know? But still, I hope you enjoy the first part, and the last part :D!

My back slams against a wall.

Ben’s hips rub against me passionately, and my skin feels like frosts—so cold that its hot. His hardness grinds against my center with a delicious friction and pressure that has us moaning wantonly. My panties are completely damped, and I’m sure the wetness seeps through my shorts. With my legs wrapped around his waist, the leverage allows our bodies to move together better, and I can feel the strain of his cock against the harsh fabric of his jeans as it rubs between my thighs.

The buttons of his pants are already undone, and we lost his shirt a long time ago. When I open my eyes for a moment, I see a spinning bedroom. His hands are under my shorts, clutching my ass, squeezing the flesh and guiding my movements. I thank God for wearing a thong when the tip of his fingers begin to trace light patterns on my naked flesh. I’m too drunk to spell out the words, but he whispers it to me anyways.

“Fuck.”

His mouth leaves my ear and trails down to my breasts. I quickly disengage my hands from his silky hair and throw my shirt off. He pushes my bra aside with his teeth and immediately scrapes them against my nipple. I toss my head back, and it bangs against the wall hard. The pain barely registers over the pleasure.

“Are you okay,” he pants, giving my boob a moist kiss before looking up at me. My hooded eyes barely register the concern, and I gyrate my hips, impatient. Barely nodding, I force his head back to my chest. I feel the vibration of his laugh against my skin, and it dies away when he takes the whole breast into his mouth, sucking and moaning wildly. I mew as the sensation makes its way to my pussy and his tongue begins to swirl against the small peak. My nipples are so hard, I can feel the sting as they strain against my skin, wishing to break away, and his mouth only heightens the sensation. I push his head to the side, and Ben starts lavishing the other one. My thighs start shaking, and I’m glad he’s holding onto me.

He continues his erotic massage until he gets fed up with my bra.

“Let’s take this off, shall we?” he grunts, pushing me tighter into the wall. His length presses against me and I hum. He’s so hard and I’m so wet that I can’t help but buck my hips, incapable of voicing my desires. He likes this; his eyes close and I see his Adam’s apple bob, and this time it isn’t from the vodka. Quickly, he removes one hand from my butt and uses it to masterfully unhook the snap and the cold air hits me in glorious waves. I expose my neck to the sensation, and Ben takes this as an invitation to suck on it.

“You’re a little too good at that,” I comment breathlessly. I tighten the grip on his waist and use my interlocked ankles to push move him closer to me. I place my hands on his bare shoulders, and I revel on how smooth and tight his body is. Slowly, my fingers trail down his chest as we continue to move against one another, and I love the detail of his chest. I brush my thumb softly over his tight nipples and pinch them gently before moving down to his abs. I smile in appreciation when I feel how defined they are. I let my finger dip into his belly button and he thrusts involuntarily and grows against my collarbone. Slowly I trail lower and then stop just above his boxers, teasing my hand inside before retreating. My hands grip his hips, just above where my legs are wrapped, and I dig my nails into his skin.

This is his undoing.

Nodding, he stares at my chest for a moment before kissing me again. Wrapping his arm around my waist while the other one makes work at the buttons of my shorts, Ben moves us to the bed, and I bounce when he throws me onto it before crawling on top of me. I welcome his weight, and he engulfs both my hands into one of his, pinning it against the headboard. I giggle at the kink just as he devours me.

His mouth tastes sweet. I sigh into him and brush my tongue against the seam of his lips until he opens his mouth. Quickly, I push tongue into his mouth and seek. I’m messing, and I can feel the saliva slowly drip down my chin and onto my chest, but that only makes me kiss him harder and faster.

He teases me softly, poking his tongue gently against my own before forcefully stroking them together. He sucks on my bottom lip before enclosing his mouth over the tip of my tongue, suckling softly and then biting down. I am groaning and strain our bodies closer. I want to fill all his crevices with my curves.

My hips move against his chest, and he runs his hand down from my neck, past my breasts and onto my mound. He cups me and rubs his fingers vigorously and I’m shrill by this point, biting his shoulder.

“Aggressive, aren’t you?” he moans. I hear the smile and I can’t respond as he continues to move his hand over my clothed pussy. I want him to take off my shorts and feel me in a way Finn never had. “I like it.”

Ben is driving me crazy, and my head is dizzy, more so than usual. I’m not thinking as I reach under and wiggle my way out of my clothes.

He stops for a moments and his breath catches as he looks down at my naked form. I’m glad I’m drunk—I don’t feel insecure. The noise he makes are animalistic and it makes me giddy. Finn was never this responsive to my nudity and it makes me feel like a goddess.

Ben is on top of me within seconds and I don’t fight him. I let his lips bite into my neck and nip a trail to my stomach. When his tongue dips into my belly button, my fingers are twisting and tugging at his hair. I pull him up and place his mouth over mine.

My hands are making fast on taking off his pants and boxers. I’m eager to feel him, even though I’m sure he’s not as big as Finn. Either way, I whimper when I grip his penis. Its so warm and incredibly hard under my palm, and I can’t help but move my hand back and forth against the tender skin, eager by the fact that this man is hard for me.

He loves this. His arms are on either side of my head and he’s gasping violently, his cheek pinks and the veins on his neck thumping. His head is thrown back, and he bows his body into mine, his eyes closed. Our bodies are flushed together, and his weight comes down harder and its splendid and heavy. I smile as I move my hand more vigorously against him, feeling the life as it pounds against my slick palm.

Ben feels my wetness rub against his thigh and quickly, he uses his right hand to touch me. I slow my ministration on his cock when he uses his thumb to tease my clitoris. He knows exactly how to rub and its so different from my past experiences it makes me sob a little. The sound encourages him, and he moves his fingers inside me and I am now clawing at his back.

“You’re so wet,” he whispers, breathless. His breath is moist and fiery and I can’t stand this. I feel my stomach clenching and turning as the waves of pleasure spark. It has been too long since I’ve been touched like this, and almost never since it had been done properly, and I want to die in this state.

Then he stops and he rises to his knees before me. He’s so tall and he looks down at me with hot eyes. My drunk sight can’t make him out clearly, but even blurry he’s beautiful.

“Why’d you stop?” my words slur and I blink rapidly as he looks down at me. I can’t tell if he’s frowning, but I don’t care about his feelings. I reach for him like a child, pouting. He sighs before coming back to me and I'm dizzy.

He kisses me, but its softer than before. I’m a little annoyed and I bite his lips hard but he's not reactive. Instead, he lets his tongue gently stroke my lip and tease into my mouth, tickling the roof. Then, he kisses my jaws and down my neck, paying special attention to my collar bone. His hands ghost over my breasts as he goes down the valley to my belly button and he presses kisses onto my pelvis.

And then, he’s there.

My body bursts into flames and I screech and I shake in overwhelming pleasure. My back arches completely off the bed and I’m clenching the sheets so tightly, they pull out from the corners of the mattress. I don’t care. I’m consumed by the alcohol that’s coursing through my body and the euphoria his mouth provides.

“Do you like this?” he asks into my cunt. I don’t care much for dirty talk, but the sound vibrates in my snatch, and it goes straight to my clit. I can’t respond, so I simply grab his head and shove him into me. Ben doesn’t seem to mind. I’m on the edge, and he knows this. He begins to flick his tongue over my swollen bud faster and places his fingers into me. I’m frantic and my hips strain against his grip violently. My orgasm is surfacing and I try to tell him but nothing comes out.

He is lapping vigorously and I'm light heated. The sounds his tongue makes with my labia is sexy and I wiggle my hips. Gently, he bites my slick heat, specifically nibbling on my clit before pushing his tongue completely inside me, his fingers pumping in and out. I'm riding his face and he's eating me out so wonderfully and my breath is coming out short and I'm writhing as convulsions start rolling though me and then—I'm coming.

I’m screaming and pulling his hair, my knees clamping tightly on either side of his head. My eyes are screwed shut and my body arches impossibly, unrestrained and his face is still between my legs, sucking and licking and fingering so impossibly quickly that I can't breathe. When I come down from the high, he bites the inside of my thigh hard. Then, he moves to me, his face glistening. I reach up and taste myself and he groans.

“That’s so sexy.” I don’t say anything.

I feel lazy and relaxed. I'm languid and my bones are heavy. I am still wheezing as I flop on the comforter and Ben hovers over me with a cocky smile. My eyes are droopy, but I fight against the sleep and use all my strength to flip us over so that I’m on top. He helps me with this move, sensing my languor.

I can feel him beneath me, so hard and hot and ready, and this encourages me a little. I coo. “You’ve been patient,” I say, gyrating my hips over his length. I tease his penis into my wet folds and I’m still sensitive. He is resting against the backboard and staring at me intently as I hiss and shake my head in disbelief. The hands that are gripping my waist try to push me down, and I feel like coming with the thought of this man inside me, fucking my brains out. But I stop myself, resisting his insistent pushes. “I want to make you feel good.”

When I give him a small peck before my tongue trails down his chest, I can feel the exhaustion from this whole day come crashing down on me. But I continue in my efforts and drink him in.

I love the taste of his skin. Where Finn is sweet, Ben is salty and musky. When I reach his dick I smile. This is the one thing I’m superb at, and Finn made sure of it.

And just as I put him into my mouth, my mind blacks out.

**o-o-o**

 Ben Solo is in my mechanic shop.

It is the day after my regrettable mistake, and my hangover is more alive than ever. No amount of coffee, water or medicine would remedy the mind-numbing pound. It has been a quiet day; I am working on a vintage Camero for one of my most reliable client when he comes in. I don’t notice him at first since I am under the car, but once I roll out and glance up, wiping my dirty hands, I gasp and immediately roll back in and out the other end.

“Can I help you?” Aretwo asks, approaching the tall, handsome man. My weak heart beats violently against my chest, and I can hear it loudly in my ears. Dropping my wrench, I cringe at the sound it makes when it crashes to the ground. I conceal myself behind the Camero as I peer at the two. I watch as my co-worker wipes his oily hands with a rag, walking slowly to Ben.

“Hello. And yes, you can indeed help me.” Ben clears his throat and looks around. I have a bad feeling in my stomach, and my hangover isn’t helping the nausea. I grab the straps of my overalls nervously, my dark nails scratching at the material vigorously, and I suck on my lower lip.

“With what?” Aretwo seems annoyed when he doesn’t elaborate. Ben doesn’t speak for another moment when finally, his eyes meet mine through the tinted glass. I am sure he can't see me, but the smile on his face says otherwise. I turn and squat, hitting my head against the red doors. I don’t check to see if my already pained head is bleeding. My pulse is completely erratic and I wonder if I’m going into cardiac arrest.

“I would like to speak with Rey. I have something of hers.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes my bones shake. Shutting my eyes tightly, I count backwards from a hundred and pray that Aretwo can sense my feelings.

Who am I kidding? Aretwo has the mental capacity of a robot, so of course he says, “Sure.”

He shouts my name in a shrill voice, and with my hang over, he might as well have taken a hammer to my head. Even closing my ears with my fingers didn't drown the noise out. When I finally couldn’t take anymore, I spring up from behind the car.

“I’m right here Aretwo,” I snarl, glaring at the short man. He looks at me, confused by my sudden anger, before shrugging and pointing at Ben, who is leaning against the wall with a smirk.

“That guy wants to talk to you. He has something for you.” With that, the young man teetered back to the old Ford and submerges his tiny torso into the hood. I curse.

My face is on fire as I make my way to Ben, and every step feels like thorns. When I reach him, I violently grab the sleeve of his arm and throw him into my office before shutting the door and locking it. Closing the blinds, I turn to him and growl.

“Give me my underwear!”

To say I am bad at morning after’s is an understatement. The only lover I’d ever had was a gay boy that couldn’t even admit his homosexuality to himself until some guy came along and gave him better brain than me. During my morning after’s with Finn, we would cuddle a little, awkward as we remembered how hard it was to get him “excited” that night, before getting up to grab breakfast.

But this morning after was completely different. Unfamiliar with one night stands, and the room I was in, I woke up disoriented and perplexed. My immediate thought was to question where I was, but when I threw up on the side of the bed and saw the train-track rug, I knew I was in a child's bedroom. Which child? I did not know.

When I got up from the small bed, the sheet pooling on my lap, it felt like my head was being stabbed repeatedly by a knife, and the back of my head was bruised and tender. As I blinked against the sun light, I tried to recall moments from last night. It wasn't until I looked down at my bare body that the memories of moans and kisses flooded my mind.

This was the exact reason why I always got drunk alone—I never had anyone to randomly fuck but myself. I have been in charge of my own orgasms since I was fourteen, and I would like to admit that I’m damn good at it.

I was so embarrassed at the memories, and they kept flooding in. They were of a faceless person and they were all glorious and pleasurable. I can’t help but feel happy. Still, I cupped my hand over my mouth as I tried to remember who it was I was with. Something stirred beside me, and I whipped my head towards the movement and immediately regretted this motion when I doubled over to throw up again. When I finally regained some semblance of composure, I turned slowly and held my breath as I tried to decipher who my partner was.

His back was facing me, their face delved under the pillow. Their back was broad and muscular. I could see part of their face, but it wasn’t enough for me to make a reasonable assumption. Thinking it was better left unknown, I got up from bed carefully and started getting dressed.

And that was when he turned over onto his back, and I nearly had a heart attack.

There were five simple facts everyone knew about Ben Solo. One, he was a graduate student working on his PhD in theoretical physics and applied mathematics. Two, his parents, Prime Minister Han Solo and Dean Leia Organa-Solo, were two of the most influential people in the whole nation. Three, he’s a rude and self-centered bastard that thinks that just because he’s smart and beautiful and has a lot of money, the world caters to him. Four, he never smiles. Five, he fucks anyone and everything.

At that moment, shame and pure panic rushed through my body. I could barely believe what I had done, and I wanted to kill my drunk addled self. When he began to stir, I became frantic. Quickly, I grabbed my t-shirt and shorts, threw them on, and ran out the house barefoot, happy that I was able to avoid him.

Now here I am, seeing the very person I wished with all my heart would disappear.

Ben Solo looks at me apprehensively and slowly walks towards me. I back away, my breath hitching. A memory of his moans from last night enter my mind, and my toes curl.

“Aggressive, aren’t you?” he whispers, his voice husky. My nipples harden as the memory of those words burn into me and I quickly cross my arms over my chest, regretting my decision to skip out on a bra today.

“Just give me back my panties,” I grumble, trying my hardest to make a disgusted expression. He chuckles and then comes closer. I am now flushed against the wooden door of my office, and even through my thick overalls, I feel the coolness and I like it against my blazing skin.

“That’s not what you wanted last night though, was it?” he teases, his eyes gleaming. “You were begging for me to take them off and just do things to you. I have to admit, I quite enjoyed it.” He licks his lips and I have to purse mine to keep from whimpering as he slowly presses against me. I can feel every muscle in his body, and I almost move with him until I remembered how nasty of a person he truly is.

Trying my hardest to suppress the rambunctious and horny side of me, I scowl at him. “I don’t know what I said last night, but rest assured that none of it was said consciously,” I sneer.

This isn’t a complete lie. Last night, I had not been in control of myself, but I knew what I wanted. Although I was drunk beyond belief, I could, for the most parts, remember the content of last night and I could recollect, in great details, how much I wanted Ben Kylo Solo—or more specifically, for this drop-dead gorgeous boy to fulfill the roll my ex-boyfriend had failed to complete in our five-year relationship.

“I’m pretty sure you were conscious.” His smile is sly and I stare intently at his puffy lips as he speaks. “You were very responsive to my touch. Especially when I was going down—”

“Okay!” I shout, clearing my throat and pushing him away. I didn’t need a trip down memory lane, especially since I was doing it all day anyways. Plus, that was the last thing my highly aroused body needed. “I would like to have my underwear back and never have to speak about this again. Clearly, it was a mistake. Lord only knows what types of diseases I might have gotten form you. I mean, its not like I would willingly want to be with you.”

He doesn’t seem to like these harsh words. His face hardens and he moves back, perching himself on my desk. Although I'm trying to seem fierce, I am peeing myself on the inside, my hanger over twisting my body in weird and uncomfortable ways.

And for some damn reason, I’m recalling more and more details about last night, and rather than being disgusted and ashamed, I’m turned on.

God damn my sexually deprived body.

“You know, I don’t really like what you’re implying,” he says slowly, frowning. “Its not like I was the one whipped out your dick in the kitchen.”

I almost slap my hands over my face, but I try to repress the embarrassment. “I did not do that,” I deny fervently. This makes Ben smile.

“You wish baby. But don’t be upset—its not like I didn’t enjoy it. Your hands feel really nice. They’re so small and soft. Its not like I’m going to say no to a willing girl.” I’m clenching my teeth as he speaks. “In fact, it was you who instigated the whole ordeal, and I like women who take initiative.”

I snort at this comment. Although I could not reject this statement with conviction, it is hard to believe that I would make blatant sexual advances, even if I was drunk. “You like any woman. Plus, you wish I came onto you. You were probably coming onto me!”

“Maybe I was,” he smirks again and brushes his hand over his hair. “But I think you wanted me more than I wanted you.”

There was no denying this statement. I know this to be true. But it wasn’t specifically Ben that I wanted—it was anyone. Any heterosexual male that could fill the void. Hell, in my state, I probably would have gone for a lesbian.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I sneer, indignant. “I didn’t want you.”

This hits a nerve and his eyes flash and nostrils flare. “Oh, I know you didn’t want me. It was Finn you wanted, right? You were screaming his name when I had my face in your pussy.” He sighs, as if sad. But a small evil grin emerges when he sees my back straighten and my face harden. “Too bad he was making out with his boyfriend. His name is Poe Dameron, right? The pilot guy.”

My desire for his body is completely forgotten now. My face is red with anger and I can feel my fisted hands shake. “If you’re just here to return my underwear, you can have it, I don’t want it,” I snarl. I can’t swallow my anger, and the pain of it makes me shake even more. He frowns at me.

“I’m actually here for another reason.” He folds his hands together. I see my red panties in them.

“And what is that?” I say between clenched teeth.

“I need you to fix my car.” I snort and he narrows his eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“What on Earth makes you think I’m going to help you of all people?” I throw my arms up in the air and laugh bitterly. “Do you not see how much I despise you?”

“That’s not what you were saying last night,” he mumbles and I growl at him. He raises his hands defensively. “Look, I can tutor you in exchange.”

His offer startles me. “I don’t need to be tutored.”

Now, it is his turn to laugh. “Please, you’re on academic probation. One more F and you’re out of this university, and its not likely for you to be accepted into another.”

My heart is beating so quickly, I can’t breathe. “How do you know about that?” I try to keep the panic away from my voice, but its venomous and coats every word.

“My mother is the Dean, and I work as a teaching assistant for the math department. How do you think I know?”

I don’t say anything and I swallow hard. “Look Ben—”

“My name is Kylo,” he interjects fiercely. I give him an impatient look.

“Look Kylo. I really don’t want anything to do with you. I would honestly rather have my arms cut off and fed to crocodiles before I would want to do anything with you. So you can take your nasty little car away from my business and find some other auto-shop to get your car fixed.”

“That’s a little mean,” he grumbles. I roll my eyes at his feign of innocence. He then straightens up and speaks formally. “I came to you with a business preposition, not to be your friends. Plus, you’re the best mechanic in this part of the planet so,” he trails off.

I don’t know what comes over me. I don’t know if its my desire to finish my degree in automotive mechanics, or if it’s the memory of the pleasure he gave me, or his flattery. Either way, I'm shaking hands with a smiling Solo.

“But you can’t tell anyone about this.” He pulls me closer and stares intently in my eyes. I refuse to back down, even if my insides are turning into pudding. Finally, he lets go of my hand and looks down at the dirt and grime I just transferred onto his hand. I almost smile at his disgusted look.

Finally, he looks up to me and responds, wiping his hand on the front of my overall. “Please Greasy, everyone already knows you fucked me.”

And that's how Ben Kylo Solo got a black eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so that was hard to write. Although I thoroughly enjoy reading smut/lemons, I am not confident in my writing skills for it. So please please please tell me what you thought for this chapter. I would honestly appreciate your feedback. Since I'm a beginner and a little shy at this, I'm trying to see what works and what doesn't. This chapter is unedited so I'm sorry! But again, please tell me what you think! If I finish all my work tomorrow on time, I'll update again!
> 
> Comment, kudos, subscribe, bookmark and thank you <3

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me your thoughts! It would mean a lot <3


End file.
